


you bet your life

by witheachsunrise



Category: Castle Rock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, How Do I Tag, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:07:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witheachsunrise/pseuds/witheachsunrise
Summary: He is not subtle in his hunger, never had to know how to stop himself from gorging on what he wanted.  Now though, as he feels Henry move against him, he realizes that he wants to take it slow, taste every little piece of him, rather than swallowing him in one fluid motion.The cage is a joke but his hunger is real.





	you bet your life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snickfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/gifts).



> This was a weird little fic that lived in my brain since I finished the show and then when I realized i had the chance to write it, I jumped at the opportunity.

He can taste almost every part of him.

Skin on skin, mouth on mouth. Henry Deaver pushes back beneath his hands, and it's all he can do not to bite down on the strings that bind their identities, their very existence. It takes a strength of will he didn't know he had to not rip into this man, tear him from the inside out, release everything that lives inside him and drink it all until he is sated and full.

Instead, he kisses him harder, pushes him up against the wall, digs his nails into his hips and tells him, in a low and hungry voice, that he is delicious.

He is not subtle in his hunger, has never had to know how to stop himself from gorging on what he wanted. Now though, as he feels Henry move against him, he realizes that he wants to take it slow, taste every little piece of him, rather than swallowing him in one fluid motion.

~

He hums in the dark, sings the song of times gone by, old songs from days long before Henry Deaver was alive, long before he himself had been a creature that lived against the world. He sings and Henry watches him, and they both know it's only a matter of time until this goes further, until there is skin on skin and then...

And then there's no turning back, there's no denying anything anymore. 

Because that's what everything is, really: just a matter of time, a matter of seconds ticking by, falling from their fingers, dripping like the rain or leaky pipes. The crows know it, the sky knows it, and the woods, the hungry woods, oh, they know it too. He is more than aware of it himself. He can taste it in the air, the tension, the anticipation.

It's all just a matter of time.

~

They kiss in the darkness, hands groping each other through the bars of the cage. 

At first he thought it was a one-sided seduction, that Henry was being lured; but he finds that's not as true as he has led himself to believe. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he finds himself drawn, pulled to the man by Fate or Time or whichever of the Powers saw fit to let him roam the multiverse.

Because here he is, hungry as ever, needing the touch of this delicious man. He wants to devour him, take in every part of his identity, his being. But he doesn't.

He takes time, savors each touch, each kiss, each moment that he steals from Henry and the life he could be leading.

He will not rush this. Instead, he will savor each second.

~

"What are you?"

The words spill out between kisses, between roaming hands and eager looks. He can sense that curiosity, that desire to know what this is; he isn't the kind of thing that lives off of the curious, that’s one of his siblings, but he recognizes the smell of it in the air.

"Does it matter?"

Before Henry can answer, he kisses him again; his hands move to undo the man's belt and keep his mind from wandering all those winding, curious roads.

~

Which of them has the power, he’s not sure. He wants to tell himself he could leave any time, that Henry Deaver is not keeping him here, that the simple touches, the kissing, the taste of his skin, isn't enough to lure a being like him into living a simple existence against one reality, rather than tasting what the diverging paths have to offer.

But well, he’s still around, isn't he?

He hums against Henry's skin, his tongue darting out to taste it. Everything crackles around him, sparks shooting in front of his eyes as he processes the taste of all the things that could have been, all the lives they could share together, that he could take from him.

He realizes then, in a fit of hunger and need and desire, that he's not going anywhere soon. Not unless something changes. 

~

The cage is a joke. He could get out anytime, and they both know it. 

He let himself be kept, captured and held away from the light, because he was still getting something out of it. Now, though--now he itches to be free, to see the sun and walk in the world. To exist against Henry for more than a few hours at a time, to be next to him and touch him and drink in his very essence by the light of day, rather than in shadow.

He doesn't tell Henry he's had enough of this part of the game, just shows up one afternoon in his home, swaying slightly as he hums all those old songs, holding out a hand for him to take.

"How--"

He smiles, baring his teeth. "You know I wasn't trapped there."

Henry shakes his head. "You can't do this."

He tilts his head slightly, withdrawing his hand. "Because of what will happen? You can't blame all of it on me, can you?"

Henry forces himself to take in a breath, looking at him with a level gaze. "I can't let you just be out here."

"You're not letting me," he tells him. "I'm choosing to. Everything from here on out plays out however it's going to, but you didn't make the choice. I did."

"I can't--"

But he steps forward, wrapping his fingers around Henry's wrists and pulling him into a kiss. 

~

They lay in bed together, him on his side and Henry behind him, laying on his back. He doesn't have to see Henry to know what he's doing, can feel his mind wandering by the fact of his feeding.

"Don't feel guilty," he says, his voice gentle. "This isn't something to feel guilty about."

"People are dying."

"That's not on you."

Henry turns to look at him and he rolls onto his back, staring back with a blank expression.

Then he offers a small, reassuring smile. "It's not. It's not your responsibility to manage the world. This is a child throwing a tantrum. This is someone being unhappy that I'm enjoying myself for a while."

Henry opens his mouth, then chooses to shake his head and roll onto his side. "I have no idea what you are."

"Does it matter?" Their conversations keep circling around this. They keep doing the same steps, and he knows the answer but he waits for it anyway.

"Even if I knew," Henry says, his voice slow as he processes the ideas that are striking him. "There's nothing to be done, is there? It's bigger than… than any of us."

"Than any of you."

"And you?"

"Well, maybe. But I at least have a chance of making a difference." After a moment, he adds. "You're all just food."

He feels Henry twitch at the words but neither of them say anything else.

~

Things can be different if he wills it.

He can change the flow of time, of this strange little reality, and make it into something he wants more of. He can make this timeline his own, take Henry Deaver out of the picture and slide into his place, devour the possibilities and leave the scraps of what's left, let it decay and fall back into the lines of the multiverse.

He could do that. He's expected to do that. It's what he's done in the past. It’s his pattern.

But he could change that too. Throw everyone off and make a different choice. Rewrite this script and turn everything on its head.

They don't play games with cages anymore, he and Henry; they both know it's pointless now. He finds him at random, appearing to him when he's doing work, at the store, sitting in his little home.

Usually they fuck; it's just a part of the pattern, and he’ll slide out of existence soon after, leaving Henry to consider everything that’s led him to where he is now.

But this time is different.

This time he lays on the bed, stretched out like a cat who's far too content. He watches Henry, eyes bright, tongue licking his bottom lip.

"Stop that," Henry tells him. 

He shrugs, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling, considering his words carefully before speaking.

"What if I gave you an opportunity?"

He can feel Henry's eyes on him and he turns to look at him, knowing he's already gotten his interest.

"What opportunity?" Henry asks. "What is it you want?"

"I think," he starts, his words careful, "that I can show you something more worth your time than this town."

Henry doesn't say anything; just watches him, waiting for more.

"I think I can offer you a universe, if you're willing to take it. More than one. I can show you how time moves, how to play with the strings of existence. We can have a good time doing it."

Henry doesn't speak for a long time, just closes his eyes and lays there, breathing slow.

Finally, in the darkness, he replies.

"Let me think about it."

~

Henry finds him this time.

He's sitting outside at the edge of the woods, the sun high in the sky, his face tilted upward. It's still good to feel the sun on his skin, no matter how fickle his form might be. There's something about the warmth that lures him to find the sunny days and revel in them.

"Let's do it," Henry says, watching him for a reaction. "I'll go with you."

He stands up, stretching his limbs and stepping close. "That took you long enough, you know."

"I had to weigh my options."

He shrugs. "Didn't know there were many options for you here."

Henry sighs, shaking his head, then moves in, kissing him before he can say anything else. 

"Let's go."

He takes Henry's hands into this own, walking backwards towards the woods. "I've been waiting lifetimes for this," he tells him. "Holding my breath and hoping I'd find someone who would want to come with me."

Henry lets himself be led, his expression almost relieved. Both of them know there's not much here, know that he can give him worlds and stars and a whole slew of possibilities.

The woods hum around them, getting thicker and darker as they move. The trees seem to vibrate with anticipation, the birds cry out in joy. Everything has been waiting for this, for them. 

"Are you ready?" he asks as they move. "Because this is going to hurt."

Henry nods, his hands tightening a little but his expression determined. 

He begins to hum, swaying with the trees and letting the world fall away from them. Then he bares his teeth and takes a bite out of the fraying strings that bind Henry to this place, this reality. They'd already been weakened, but now he severs them entirely. There's no need for them anymore.

There's no stopping there; he bites and tears and listens to Henry scream out as he is shredded from the world. It hurts, just like he said it would, but this is all a part of the process. He has to be unmade, built again to be suitable for travel.

When he's done, when he's broken down every part of the man he'd been enraptured by, he lays back in the liminal space of the woods, licking his lips and closing his eyes.

~

He moves through time and space, moves against reality as a visitor, a tourist exploring foreign lands. It's different than before, though; strange, to move in a more consistent body than he used to have.

His siblings joke, telling him he's going to teach his new addition how to be one of them, how to belong to creatures outside of time and the world. But he tells them that he picked a good one, that it's going to be fine.

He runs his hand over his stomach, feeling the hum of a whole slew of possibilities churning inside him.

Things will be different when Henry emerges again, he knows that. He won't be Henry Deaver; he'll be more than one identity had ever been, and he will have a whole multiverse to taste.


End file.
